


Dollhouse

by taekoludenberg



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, I really don't know what real tags to give this, Oneshot, You have to squint, basically just, but this is not a songfic, even though it's very very small, inside chihiro's mind, it sounds stalkerish but it's not!, mentioned rape, no comfort, tell me if you think of any, there is only one character, yes it's a reference to melanie martinez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekoludenberg/pseuds/taekoludenberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a doll. He was a deviant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dollhouse

**Author's Note:**

> "she" and "he" both refer to chihiro

Chihiro Fujisaki was a doll. She was naturally endearing, dressed up to seem like a princess through compliments and speechless, envious glares from the other girls in class. Her smile was soft, eyes caring, and every gentle touch was as if everything she touched would break with so much as half an ounce more pressure.

But Chihiro Fujisaki was disgusting. A pervert in panties and hoopskirts, fishing for compliments with just the right bait. Behind the mask, he was revolting, even more so than the incapable coward he had built _her_ to escape. It's funny, sometimes, when he compares the causes to the effects. He changed so he wouldn't be seen as weak and girly, only to expand on those traits exponentially.

But it made her feel safe. It was okay to be weak, so long as she was a girl, said society. Nobody made fun of her anymore; nobody could call her a freak or a loser for fitting in with the crowd. The types of people who had victimized her now turned their backs to ignore her, picking on band geeks and student council kids instead. She wasn't in danger of anything but maybe a couple embarrassing catcalls when she walked in, which ultimately served as nothing but compliments on her appearance. 

And then it made him feel frightened, like the entire world was his enemy. He couldn't don skirts a centimeter too long without the fear that someone would wonder what it was he hid beneath them. He couldn't wear too much or too little makeup without knowing he'd have his femininity questioned. If he acted too intriguing and purposefully innocent, there was the chance he would be assaulted and have himself revealed. If he acted too boyish, he'd be teased and talked about, trapping him in the same hell he'd already tried to escape. He ran over each possible response in his mind every time he was spoken to so that he could make sure he chose the most girly, innocent, believable one for an innocent young lady, lest he wanted to face risking his secret being revealed. It scared him, and he wanted for nothing but to be normal. He wanted to never have had to throw on skirts and subtle lipstick to be seen in a better light. He wanted to be strong, to be a man and not a boy, to be normal by society's standards. 

But she was safe.

And eventually, as time passed, he came to realize that was all that mattered. The security of his mask. The wellbeing of the façade was all that he cared about, because that was all anyone else cared about. Their opinions became his opinions, and gradually, instead of her becoming a part of him, he became nothing but a tiny spec of something, nothing, within her.

She was a doll. He was history.

And somehow, that was okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this is depressing I was just feeling kinda down but anyway I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
